Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Shielding Harlow (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Fierce Protectors Book 2)

by Casey Hagen

  His hands flexed on the wheel. “Would you have even sought me out if you had somewhere else to turn? Is that what you were about to say?”

  Her gaze dropped to her lap, where she picked at the edge of her black hoodie. “I’m not proud of it.”

  “Well, it’s like you said, you didn’t know what I did for a living.” He shrugged and glanced away. “So, has Ashton ever had a man in her life?”

  She squared her shoulders but kept her gaze straight ahead. “She’s had my dad and my brother.”

  Dylan snorted. “The brother with the gambling the problem? Great.” After putting his daughter in danger, if Dylan had his way Harlow’s brother would never have access to Ashton again.

  “Listen, he’s been good with her,” she said, sighing.

  “He got her kidnapped.”

  “He couldn’t know they would take her.”

  Why the hell was she defending him? “Bullshit.”

  She opened her mouth, but there was no way in hell he was hearing one more word out of her on behalf of her piece of shit brother, as if he were just as much a victim in this as Ashton. “How much is he in for?”

  “A lot,” she said quietly.

  “Harlow…” he growled.

  “Two-hundred-thousand,” she said, her voice breaking on the words.

  “How the fuck did he get in that deep?” he bellowed. His blood surged in his veins. Fuck almighty, men didn’t usually get in that deep over a piddly hobby spiraled out of control. And Dylan would bet his last bit of savings, the savings account that was going to run almost dry if he had to buy his daughter back, that there was a whole lot more going on with Harlow’s brother.

  “Horses,” she muttered. She tucked her ankle up under her jean-clad thigh and turned to him. “He had some inside information. I told him not to use it, that it wasn’t a sure thing. I told him I wasn’t going to be there to catch him when he falls this time, but he didn’t listen.”

  “You’ve been paying his debts before this?” She’d spent the past fifteen years preparing to have his baby and then raising her. Doing it all without any monetary help from him. And if that wasn’t enough, bailing her piece of shit brother out of trouble fired a rage inside him that he had to physically force down as it bubbled up in his throat.

  “A few. I had to. It was that or explain to Ashton why her uncle was in the hospital with broken legs, or worse. That’s what he said they threatened to do to him if he didn’t pay up.”

  He took a deep breath and reminded himself to keep his anger in check. If he went off on her she’d clam up for sure, or she would think she couldn’t trust him and maybe try to solve this on her own. “She’s fourteen. I guarantee she knows something is up with him.”

  “You’ve been a parent for ten minutes, and all of a sudden you figure you know what Ashton does and doesn’t think better than I do?”

  He shot her a glare. “And whose fault is that?”

  Her lips snapped together in a thin line.

  Yeah, that’s what he thought. “Think back to fourteen—didn’t you know a whole lot more about what was happening in the house than your parents thought you did?”

  “Maybe,” she murmured.

  “Oh, come on. You must have heard your parents arguing through the air vents. You never paid attention to the veiled insults and behind-the-back conversations at family events?”

  She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms. “Maybe my family isn’t like yours, Dylan. My parents are very loving with one another and their children.”

  “So, your brother’s gambling problem came from where?”

  She jabbed a finger in his direction, her bare nail likely an example of frilly things she gave up while raising Ashton. “That’s not fair. My parents aren’t responsible for my brother’s choices.”

  “And it’s not up to you to clean up his messes,” Dylan pointed out.

  “No, it isn’t, but now they have my daughter, even though I vowed to never bail him out again. That changes things.”

  He stopped at the light, tipped his head in her direction, and met her eyes. He glanced down at the delicate hand with long, slim fingers resting on her thigh, and before he could think better of it he lay his hand over hers. “Our daughter.”

  Her shoulders slumped, but she didn’t turn away from him. Flipping her hand palm up, she linked her fingers with his. “Yes, our daughter.”

  He tried not to think about the way her hand fit in his and how, despite the years, the feel of her warm, soft skin hadn’t changed a bit. It brought him right back to that hot night under the stars, his hands linked with hers, holding them over her head below him, her back arched, her head thrown back as she gasped.

  The night they made their daughter.

  It was the last time he’d been free from responsibilities—by choice for him, by chance for her.

  He didn’t know what to do with the storm raging inside him. He’d left the office one man and he’d be returning another, and he couldn’t help but think, with the personal turmoil, he might miss details. He needed Evan and Cole in a way he never had before.

  He rolled through the light, pulled up on front of his building, and turned off the car. Cole’s car sat a few spots down. He glanced to the window and spotted Evan pacing inside, much like he had been before.

  He should be turning the case over completely, but the stakes had just gotten a whole lot higher and there was no way he would trust anyone else to lead when his daughter’s life hung in the balance.

  He had fourteen years to make up for. Fifteen if he counted the pregnancy. His sister would smack him upside his head and tell him he needed to count the pregnancy for sure.

  He circled around to her side, held open her door, and took her hand. “You ready for this? The questions are going to come fast and furious. We’ll need answers to everything. No resistance.”

  She stepped out and stood before him, that black hood hiding her golden hair that hadn’t changed one bit from the summer night. “I don’t care what it takes. I can’t tell you what it does to me wondering what’s happening to her.” She gulped, her throat working. “Is she warm? Are they feeding her? Have they hurt her? I don’t know how to put into words what that does to a mother. I have to run rescue scenarios through my head over and over because, if I don’t, the terror of what’s happening now consumes me until I can’t breathe.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and cupped her head, tucking it into his shoulder. Her hair smelled of almond shampoo and Shea butter, just like it had so many summers ago. He breathed her in and held her a bit tighter, pressing a kiss to her temple.

  He didn’t know if he was comforting her or himself, but when she squeezed him tight around the waist it didn’t matter. They had each other, and he’d lean on his team and draw on every resource he had at his disposal to bring Ashton back.

  He didn’t know how to be on both sides of the problem. How it was possible to love a child he’d never met? Or how to reconcile the anger and bitterness of Harlow depriving him of fourteen years, at the same time that she stirred his blood and woke his dormant heart again?

  How could he comfort her through this?

  How could he not?

  He’d grown used to having the answers, and in this he felt as unequipped as he had been when he’d gone into hell week. In his crew, eighty-three percent of the recruits quit. The Navy deprived them of sleep and put them through the most rigorous five and a half days of cold, wet, painful hell.

  No matter what he’d encountered until now, he reminded himself it could always be worse. He could be forced to endure hell week all over again, but he’d take hell week five times over if it meant that he could spare Harlow and Ashton this pain.

  He pulled back and slid his hand into hers. “We have work to do. I hope you’re ready. It’s not going to be a cake walk. It’s going to be exhausting.”

  “Bring it on, Dylan. I can take it,” she said.

  He led her into the office, where Evan sto
pped pacing and whipped around to face them. Cole leaned back on the couch, his ankle crossed over his knee, sunglasses pushed up onto his head. He looked as relaxed as a man with a long-neck bottle in his hand at a family barbecue, but his cool gray eyes assessed everything, especially the body language between Dylan and Harlow.

  “This is our client, Harlow Cassidy. Harlow, these are my partners, Evan and Cole.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Evan said, reaching out a hand.

  “Likewise,” Harlow murmured, sounding suddenly shy, something Dylan had never seen from her.

  Cole took her hand and nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

  “And you,” she said.

  “Why don’t you take a seat over here and we’ll get started,” Evan said, gesturing to the unoccupied couch. “Can I get you a drink? We have coffee, water, and some sodas.”

  “Water would be great, thank you,” she said, nodding.

  Evan got her a glass of water from the water cooler and then took a seat.

  She wrapped her shaking hands around the glass.

  Dylan stayed upright. What he had to say would just be easier if he were standing. “We have a lot of ground to cover, but before we get started you guys need to know that the abducted girl is my daughter.”

  The room went silent, even the faint hum of breathing stopped for several beats as they all let his declaration sink in.

  “You’re sure?” Evan asked, glancing between Dylan and Harlow. He nodded at Harlow. “No offense intended.”

  “Sure,” she muttered before taking a sip of her water.

  “As sure as I can be without test results. Ashton looks just like my sister.” Dylan reached out a hand to Harlow. “I’m going to need that picture, and I’ll need you to forward a few more in an email. The most recent casual shots.”

  She set her water on the table before her, handed over the picture from the sleeve in her phone case, and clicked on her phone. “What’s your email?”

  He recited it to her and waited as she gathered the photos they needed.

  “Okay, they’re sent. What do we do next?” she asked as she tucked her phone under the edge of her thigh.

  “We go over every single detail from Ashton’s abduction until now. If you don’t mind, Cole will record your statement,” Evan said.

  “That’s fine,” she said.

  She recounted the abduction outside the school library, the time, the details of the van, and the three guys in it—a driver, and two who overtook Ashton. She then moved on to the call that came in an hour later.

  “Did you recognize the voice?” Cole asked.

  “No.”

  “Did a number pop up when they called?” Evan asked.

  “No.”

  “What were their instructions?” Dylan asked.

  “They want $200k, in cash. I’m supposed to meet them at an abandoned warehouse on the East Side at ten o’clock Saturday night. They said I’m to show up alone and that they’ll be watching.”

  Cole whistled low. “Damn.”

  “You mentioned that you’ve bailed your brother out before. Was that from betting horses, too, or are horses new for him?” Dylan asked, propping a hip against the couch next to Harlow.

  “Kevin started following races a year ago, so it’s not exactly new, but he’s been gambling for ten years or so. He started out in casinos, and then started betting on sports.”

  Evan scratched his chin. “Have you met any of his recent friends, maybe some gambling buddies?”

  “There’s this one guy I see him with a lot. Black hair slicked back, a scar on his upper lip. He never came in, just stood by the car, watching when Kevin would stop by.”

  “Any other details? Height, weight, vehicle make and model, maybe a license plate?” Cole asked.

  She propped her elbows on her knees and massaged her forehead. “He’s the same height as my brother, so five-eleven. Probably about one-seventy. Wears a tiger’s eye ring on his pinky. I noticed it when I walked my brother out one day. I had to get Ashton to drama practice and the guy had parked his black Mercedes next to my car. He leaned against it, doing something on his phone. I had to ask him to move to get to my door.”

  “When your brother stopped by with this guy, what was he looking for? Just visiting?” Dylan asked.

  “He was always asking to borrow money,” she said, wincing.

  Now they were getting somewhere. A guy with a unique look should be easy to get information about if he spent his time tangled up with gambling rings. “Your brother asked to borrow money every time he was with this guy?” Dylan asked.

  “Yes,” she said quietly.

  “Did you give him money?”

  She rested her head on her folded hands and glanced up to him. “What I could. Then the amounts started going up and getting out of control. He suggested that I use my grace period on my mortgage to loan him money. Said he’d pay me back before the grace period was up. That’s when I cut him off. I couldn’t do it anymore. It was only a matter of time before he started to ask about Ashton’s college fund.”

  Dylan pushed away from the couch and slammed his palm flat on the wall. “That son of a bitch! Takes a hell of a lot of nerve to milk a single mother.”

  “He’s sick, Dylan,” she said, aiming a hard look his way. He recognized that expression. It was the same one his mother gave him for years to demand he tone it down and get his head out of his ass.

  Evan took over asking more questions about the time line, checking Harlow’s cell phone to see if any usable information had come through with the calls and to mark down their durations.

  Dylan hung back, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, and doing his best to reel in his temper. Losing control meant making mistakes, and there was no room for error in what they were going to do. He nodded to Evan and Cole. “I’m thinking you guys start digging into who the mystery guy is. Dig into Kevin’s records and see if anything turns up there. I’ll stay with Harlow and work on getting wiretaps for the phone. Wolf gave me a contact for that about a year ago. I’ll be there if they call back, and I’ll be pulling the money together, so if it comes to that we’re ready,” Dylan said.

  “I can’t let you pay—”

  “You have that kind of cash?” Dylan interrupted her.

  “Well, there is her college—”

  “Oh, I don’t fucking think so. I’ve got the money,” Dylan said, pushing away from the wall and stopping next to where she sat on the couch.

  She craned her neck to stare up at him.

  He crouched down to eye level with her and rested his hand on her arm. “I have savings. I can cover it. Don’t touch her college fund. Not one more penny of yours goes to your brother’s debts,” he said.

  She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded, her eyes turning glassy with tears.

  “You’re not alone in this anymore. You don’t have to be strong by yourself,” he said quietly.

  Chapter 4

  Harlow fought the apprehension swirling low in her belly, wreaking havoc in her stomach as it sloshed with water. She hadn’t managed to eat more than a bite or two of food since Ashton had been kidnapped the day before. So, instead of water refreshing her, it served as a constant reminder of the emptiness in her belly.

  Now, riding in a cab next to Dylan, just a couple streets down from the small Queen Ann bungalow built in the early 1900s that she shared with her daughter, every nerve clashed. She loved her little home, with its classic fixtures, the rough nicks in the original wood, and the second-hand furniture she had scrubbed until it glowed, but would he find it lacking?

  And how would she feel with him in her space? She’d made that eleven-hundred- square-feet her refuge from life. She’d made it a safe place for their daughter. It wasn’t flashy, but she’d filled it with love and happy memories.

  The driver pulled into her narrow driveway and came to a gentle stop. She pulled out a twenty, but Dylan laid a hand over hers and handed the driver cash. “It’s on me,�
� he said.

  They climbed out and the cab pulled away, leaving them there in the darkness with just the porch lamp illuminating the night.

  She fished her keys out of her pocket and led him up the five steps onto her postage-stamp-sized porch. A narrow wooden swing hung from thick chains.

  Dylan sank into the shadows, his eyes scanning the night. She followed his gaze, barely lit by the soft glow of the porch light, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Neither did she feel eyes on her, which eased her anxiety. She wondered what he saw, with this being his profession, but figured discussion would be best once they were inside.

  She pushed open the door and stepped inside, waiting for him to join her and close the door before flicking on the light. With a flip of the switch, two lamps lit up the cozy living room with its charcoal sectional adorned with ivory pillows and Mission-style coffee table and end tables.

  She and Ashton had snuggled on that couch just two nights ago to watch a movie. Now the space felt barren and lifeless.

  “It smells like her,” Harlow whispered. Sorrow filled her, and the strength she’d been channeling for the past day slipped away. Her shoulders shook as the sobs she had struggled to hold in since meeting Dylan finally took over.

  Before she could completely fall apart into a million anguished pieces, his laptop bag hit the floor and his arms wrapped around her. He tucked his face into her hair, holding her tight. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.

  She’d been so damn strong for so long, doing what she needed to do to give Ashton a good life, to keep her brother from getting himself killed, to protect her parents from ever knowing the weak man their son had become.

  They were family. They had been taught to take care of each other and take those ties seriously. A kernel of rage simmered within her that she had always had to be the responsible one, always holding Kevin together while he gallivanted around doing whatever the hell he wanted, with no regard to what it cost those around him.